


baby, you don't have to live your life in fear

by owlvsdove



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:38:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3490262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlvsdove/pseuds/owlvsdove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma and Skye run away together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	baby, you don't have to live your life in fear

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for 2.10 and 2.11 but sort of canon divergent.

 

Jemma catches her before she actually makes it out the door.

It’s improbable, but Skye’s not going to sink them into the earth to get away. She stands, cornered, bag on her shoulder. Looking down.

“Don’t talk me out of it,” Skye says, stiff upper lip, trembling lower one. Always at odds.

“You can’t honestly expect me to let you walk out the door,” Jemma protests.

“It’s not safe for me to be here, Simmons,” she says. “It’s not safe for anyone.”

“What do you plan to do?” Jemma asks, stepping further into the shadows, trying to keep her tone as hushed as possible. “Go find your father? Find the others?”

“No,” she says sharply. And Jemma knew she would. Skye still wants nothing to do with them. She won’t succumb, she won’t.

“And what happens if you lose control? How are you going to handle it?”

Skye doesn’t know what to say to that. Somewhere along the way she was turned into a soldier, and she’d rather say nothing than admit that she has no marching orders.

The earth vibrates underneath their feet. But it’s been long enough now that Jemma knows – it’s more of a falter than a quake. They’re not in danger yet.

“I’m not staying here,” Skye says finally, hurrying through her unconscious activity. “There’s nothing you can do, Jemma. I’m leaving.”

Jemma takes a deep breath, then plunges: “I’ll come with you.”

Skye frowns. “What?”

“I’ll come with you. We can go as long as you want – as long as it takes for you to figure this out. That way you won’t be alone,” she says.

“I’m not going to have you getting hurt because of me.” It’s an admission of weakness. She’s looking younger and more afraid than she has in a long while.

“None of us have have gotten hurt since San Jose,” Jemma says. The reminder is a slap to the face that they both feel. But it’s also the truth. As much terror as Skye can cause, she hasn’t actually hurt anyone.

“The reason I’m leaving is so that you all are safe. That’s it. It doesn’t make sense for you to come with me.”

“I’ve been keeping myself safe just fine, Skye.” She can’t deny that. Jemma’s gained quite a few new skills of late, a reaction to being something great in the old life and powerless in the new.

Jemma watches as she deliberates. She’s staunch about keeping them safe. But she’s also weak. And terrified. And her entire life, she’s never wanted to be alone. And Jemma knows all of this because Jemma’s been the one Skye whispers secrets to late at night.

They share breath in the shadowy corner of the hall for a long, winding moment.

“You’d really leave this place for me?” Skye asks, whisper broken up by suspended belief.

“I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again. Especially if it means you’re not alone out there,” Jemma says honestly.

There’s a few questions on Skye’s tongue, but they’re not pressing her long-stifled curiosity at the moment. She nods, too thick with terror to speak. Jemma smiles.

 

 

 

 

_~~Coulson & May~~_ ~~,~~

_~~I just had to leave. I’m sorry. Don’t come looking for me.~~ _

_~~Skye~~ _

 

 

_Dear Coulson and May,_

_Ignore what Skye just said. We’ll come back when she’s ready. I’ve taken the sat phone, I hope you don’t mind? Please don’t trace it. I’ll call._

_Love, Jemma_

 

 

 

“Must we do it this way?” Jemma says, and she knows she sounds rather haughty, overlarge sunglasses hiding the bags under her eyes.

Skye gives her a dark look. “What’s the alternative, posing as a couple looking to buy? It’s cleaner this way.”

It’s dawn, and Skye’s jimmying the lock on an old Dodge at a used car lot.

“SHIELD isn’t looking for us, I asked them not to.”

“ _Please_ , they know exactly where we are. I’m sure Coulson couldn’t help himself.”

“Coulson just cares about you, Skye. Everyone does.”

She ignores this, and the lock pops. “Get in,” Skye says, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Why do you get to drive?”

“Because you probably drive the speed limit.”

“No!” Jemma protests, walking around to the passenger’s seat anyway. “I’ll have you know I’m an incredibly erratic driver!”

Skye rolls her eyes. Jemma’s glad she at least got a reaction.

 

 

 

 

“It’s strange that we’ve never driven together,” Skye says after a few hours on the road, quiet against the hum of the radio. “I used to drive constantly.”

The bridge of her nose, the curve of her chin, the slope of her neck - they all point forward.

“It feels like we should have by now,” she continues. “But we never have.”

“I guess we’re making up for lost time then,” Jemma says softly. And she means it exactly like it sounds.

 

 

 

 

The routine is a quick cycle: motel, stolen car, some diner off the road to _nowhere in particular_ , a few long looks but no one questions them. And then they do it all over again.

They always get a queen-sized bed and share it.

“It’s because we’re queens,” Skye quips.

_It’s because you can’t sleep alone._ _And I wouldn’t let you anyway_.

“We _are_ queens, aren’t we?” Jemma says instead. False levity is becoming her thing.

“This is another thing we haven’t done,” Skye says.

Jemma raises an eyebrow.

“Sleepovers,” she clarifies.

“Ahh,” Jemma says. “Never really did those as a kid.”

“No? None of the other little girls wanted to come over and play with your chemistry set?”

“Never really had friends,” she corrects.

Skye looks at her. Really looks at her. So Jemma starts taking off her pants.

Skye snaps out of it. “I guess I wouldn’t have thought that.”

She shimmies out of her jeans. “I skipped too many years, was too brainy and obnoxious. Never found the time, really.”

“Well, to be fair, I didn’t really do sleepovers either.”

“No friends?” Jemma asks.

“No house.”

“Right.”

“But this’ll be fun, right? ‘Making up for lost time,’ having the fun we deserved,” Skye says. Now she’s unbuttoning her pants. Jemma’s not sure if this is a dare or not.

So she unbuttons her shirt.

“Sure,” Jemma says. “Just two friends having a fun girly night.”

“Just two friends.”

“Right.”

Skye stops. Stares. “I didn’t really bring any pajamas.”

“We were in quite a rush to leave,” Jemma notes, and Skye looks down. “I guess this will just have to do.”

_This_ being two women in their underwear.

“Yeah,” Skye says. Her lips are parted, breathing deep and slow on purpose.

“Well. Goodnight, then!” Jemma finishes weakly.

They pretend to sleep until morning.

 

 

 

 

 

Things don’t stay fun.

They get a little too close to a city, wandering on the fringes. Jemma watches Skye lust after it, the buzz and anonymity, and she wants to give it to her. But Skye tremors in her sleep. The sounds of the city late at night aren’t soothing, they never are.

Too risky. They never speak of it, but they both agree.

 

 

 

 

 

“May?”

“It’s been two weeks, Simmons.”

“She’s not ready. Not yet.”

“Just...please take care of her.”

“Yes, May.”

“And yourself.”

“Okay.”

 

 

 

 

 

Skye doesn’t sleep well.

Jemma didn’t really expect her to, but it’s a constant burden on Skye’s heart. Anxious and shivering and overexposed, she wakes with Jemma’s hands on her face and in her hair.

“It’s okay, Skye,” she murmurs.

“I can’t stop,” Skye gasps. “I can’t stop.”

“Breathe,” Jemma begs.

There’s no guide for this, no step-by-step understanding of how to comfort her through a nightmare where the world collapses under her feet. This is uncharted territory, and Jemma can’t make a wrong move. She can’t hurt Skye even more than she already is. She won’t.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry this keeps happening—” She’s started to dissolve, trying to push away.

“Skye, it’s okay.” Jemma wraps her arms around her tight. Skye squirms, but not enough to actually get away. “There’s nothing wrong with this. It’s okay.”

“Please don’t leave,” she gasps.

“I won’t. Not ever,” Jemma promises, hushed to a breeze.

They’re silent for a long moment while Skye calms down. Then, self-conscious: “I’m really sweaty, you don’t have to—”

“I’m fine where I am.”

“Okay.”

They breathe, Jemma wrapped around Skye, for a few minutes before Skye shifts in her arms to bury her face in Jemma’s chest. To think of nothing but blue skies and open air.

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are a few close calls.

Once falling asleep in the car while Jemma drove, where the hum of tires making light work of pavement seemed to beckon Skye’s ability. Once when a truck driver got too close to Jemma at a rest stop, spewing tar from his tired, hungry mouth.

And once now.

Jemma’s humming down the aisles of the gas station convenience store, trying to make her pick. “I don’t know how many more crisps I can eat, love,” she calls behind her. “And don’t make jokes about my delicate constitution. We deserve proper meals, with green things. Certainly by now you can’t disagree. ...Skye?”

The gritty tile floor rumbles.

Jemma turns back to find Skye with her back against the glass breathing hard. Cans of Arizona tea and jugs of milk shake against each other, kinetic. Everything’s so fragile.

“What is it?” Jemma asks gravely, rushing back. “What happened?”

Skye can barely catch a breath. “I can’t stop.” The words somehow get by her clenched teeth as she struggles for control. “Get everyone out.”

Jemma wants to agree. Jemma wants to do as she says. The few other people in the widespread store are starting to notice something’s happening, different from the tremors of a semi rushing by too close, too fast.

“No,” Jemma says.

Skye’s eyes jump up to her, fierce and fast and desperate.

This isn’t fair, Jemma knows it isn’t. It’s not kind, either.

“No one’s leaving here. You’re not going to hurt these people. You’re not going to hurt me.”

“I am,” Skye says, melting into panic. “I’m going to hurt everyone.” Obscured by sobs.

Jemma steps closer. Good must come of this. It must.

She steps closer to Skye. The vibrations are making the glass cases shake wildly, just shy of shattering right into the girls’ hair.

“Push the energy somewhere else, Skye,” Jemma commands. “Send it away from us.”

Skye lets out a frustrated cry.

“Protect us,” Jemma begs.

A burst of energy leaves Skye like a lightning strike, a chasm opening under her feet. But it doesn’t spread wide. It just shoots down, down, down. Away from human life. Away.

The glass doesn’t shatter. No bottles burst. The manager calls out a rather weak _is everyone alright_ and Skye is a shuddering mass against the door behind her.

Jemma steps closer, breathing hard. Slowly, very slowly, she wraps her arms around Skye, holding her close, holding her up as she goes limp.

“You did it,” she whispers, awe and gratitude spiraling out of her mouth and into the air. She presses a small kiss to her shoulder, solid and undying.

Relieved, Skye starts to cry.

 

 

 

 

 

“What happened back there?” Jemma asks quietly.

Skye had insisted on driving, despite all the world being drained out of her.

“I thought I saw someone.”

Jemma doesn’t ask who. It doesn’t really matter, and anyone who it might be doesn’t need to be named for her to understand why Skye reacted the way she did.

Skye takes her eyes off the road for just a moment to look at her. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry,” Jemma says.

“Don’t be. Even though it was dangerous, I’m...I’m glad you were there.”

Jemma is welling up, overcome. Her voice comes out weak. “Thanks for letting me come with you.”

Skye doesn’t say anything. Jemma doesn’t blame her. The moment is too tight for breathing. Instead they dig into leather seats and refuse to stop, like they were brought up to do.

 

 

 

 

 

“Which one of you left a hole in the earth?”

“Ha _ha_. ...Oh. It was Skye, sir.”

“Simmons, how much longer? We’re concerned.”

“I think...I think we’re getting tired of wandering.”

“Glad to hear it. Try not to cause anymore unnatural disasters.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

 

 

They’re escaping a sleepy neighborhood when the feeling strikes her, resounding and hot like fire. The interstate is within reach. The entire world is early dawn light. The entire world is sky blue on black. Skye on black. Skye.

Strong Skye. Shaking, quaking Skye. Down the dashboard of a stolen car, free as the day they met.

“Pull over.”

“What?” Skye looks alarmed. “We just left.”

“Pull over.” Hoarse. Parched.

They’re meters away from the on-ramp, gravel crunching underneath them as they roll to stop.

“What—?”

Jemma dives. Deliberate like a swan, desperate like something else entirely. Soft against soft, a begging, deferring tongue, and disbelieving hands.

Skye kisses like a coal fire, leaving indelible smudges. Jemma will never get the feel of her off, no matter how hard she scrubs her mind. No matter what happens next.

When Jemma pulls away she sees stars, blue and shadow. Nothing else. So she leans back in her seat and breathes hard, pushing oxygen through every tiny vein she has until she has to let it go.

“We could put off going home,” Skye says suddenly, so Jemma looks back over to her. She’s also breathing rather hard. “Just for a day or two?”

Jemma tries not to smile outright and fails miserably. “Another day or two couldn’t hurt.”

Skye pulls her in for more. A confirmation.

When she pulls away, Jemma smirks.

So Skye puts the car in drive.


End file.
